


Responsible

by Cornflower_Blue



Series: Eragon Story Snippets [3]
Category: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: Alternate Scene, Emotional Hurt, Extra Scene, Gen, I’m still considering it an alternate scene cause it technically doesn’t happen on screen, No editing we publish like men, Scene originally not included in text, are you noticing a patter for when I write?, cause I sure am!!!, we just get told about it at a later date, written at 2 am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 08:51:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17598137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornflower_Blue/pseuds/Cornflower_Blue
Summary: Nasuada watched as the red dragon flew off from the battleground. Abandoning the Burning Planes and the people who had fought there, it’s rider no doubt upon its back.Nasuada watched as the dragon flew off and knew she had killed Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira.Nasuada deals with the idea that Eragon and Saphira have been killed at the battle of the Burning Planes.





	Responsible

Nasuada watched as the red dragon flew off from the battleground. Abandoning the Burning Planes and the people who had fought there, it’s rider no doubt upon its back.

Nasuada watched as the dragon flew off and knew she had killed Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira.

Eragon and saphira were dead, the person on which they had placed all the hopes for the freedom of Alagaesia, the dragon he rode upon to bring their hope form, and they were dead because of her.

There was no other way to look at it. He had sworn fealty to her. His loyalty to her as his liege lord had ensured that he was at the battle. And now he was dead.

Saphira might not have had the same loyalty to her. But Eragon was her rider, they were rarely seen apart, they had a bond that no one else in the Varden, amongst the Dwarves, or even the Elves could even begin to comprehend. Saphira would not have willingly let Eragon walk into battle without her. And so Nasuada was responsible too, for the death of the last free dragon.

They were not the only ones who had died, not by a longshot. She would have to deal with the fallout of Hrothgar’s death sooner rather than later with the dwarves and their arcane processes. But for right now, Eragon and Saphira, their hope, their promise to the free people of Alegasisa that they could fight back, was dead. 

Nasuada spared a moment to curse magic in all its forms. 

Yes, it had allowed Eragon to do things that no ordinary man could have done, but it had also just lost her two of the people closest to her. And she could not forgive it the many tresspasses it had done to her, especially most recently.

She had to figure out how the Varden was going to move on from this, how they would continue. She could not focus on anything but that for the time being, she did not have enough room in her for anything else. And between mourning the loss of her friends and allies, and ensuring the survival of her movement and her people, the Varden had to come first. Always.

So she straightened her spine, squared her shoulders, and started on the long road of things that needed to get done. Everything else could come later, when she was alone and no one could see her break.

Nasuada was moving around on the battlefield, trying to help her men, the wounded and the survivors, trying to give them hope for the future and their cause that she was not sure she had herself anymore. But she need her men to have that hope, she needed them to continue to burn bright and hot. It was the only way they were going to survive this somewhat intact. She was moving and talking and saying words she was not sure she believed when Arya appeared by her side.

And for a brief moment, she felt hope flare in her stomach, lighting her up from the inside and reinvigorating her. Because if Arya was still alive, maybe Eragon was too. The elf would not have let anything happen to him or Saphira.

“Are they alive?” Nasuada whispered under her breath, turning her body and lowering her head so that no one around her could hear what she asked and so that none could read her lips.

Arya looked at her, and although most of the time, the elf was unreadable to Nasuada, the deep, aching sorrow in her eyes could not be disguised. And again, Nasuada felt all hope in her die a brutal death. All the more painful this time around because she had allowed herself to hope, if even for a moment.

“I cannot feel either Eragor or Saphira,” Arya said just as softly.

“How?” Nasuada asked the only question that made sense in the moment. The only one that encompased all she wanted to know.

How had another dragon hatched without them knowing about it? How had it become so big in such a short amount of time? Who was the rider? How had they managed to overcome the elve’s months of teachings? How had they managed to defeat Eragon and Saphira? How had it come to this? Why did they have to lose them?

Arya just shook her head and Nausea knew that the elf could not have given her the answers she wanted, Arya had not even been with Eragon and Saphira when they had perished. But it still felt a great betrayal that Arya did not have the answers. That she who had ferried Saphira’s egg all Nauseda’s life, she who had gotten it to Eragon, she who had been tortured for the information, she who had fought beside dragon and rider in the battle for Tronjheim, she who had led Eragon and Saphira to the elves and had stayed with them these many months, did not have the answers Nauseda wanted.

And Nasuada knew that answers would have solved none of the problems she faced at the moment. Knowing who the rider was would not help the moral of the men when the deaths of Eragon and Saphira became public knowledge. Knowing how the new rider and their dragon had bested the pair would not help her plan for how to unseat Galbatorix from his throne.

But knowing that answers would not help her with what to do did not mean that the answers would not have been helpful. It did not mean she did not want them.

“We must go retrieve them so they might have a proper burial,” Arya said, her voice as calm and collected as it always was, despite the sorrow Nasuada could see swimming in her eyes.

“Of course,” Nasuada nodded and forced herself to focus on just the facts of what needed to happen next, “I will arrange a team to ead out as soon as we are able.

“The dwarves will be collecting Hrothgar’s body for transport back to Tronjheim, we will have to decide what to do with Eragon’s body. He is technically a member of Durgrimst Ingeitum and as such he has the right to be buried in the dwarven fashion, however I do not know if he would have prefered to be buried in another fashion.”

Arya said nothing for a moment, as if considering something, then said, “He should be buried with Saphira.”

“You’re right, we might have to bury him here then.”

Nasuada was about to say more, when a man supporting the weight of one of the wounded walked past them.

“Perhaps we should wait to say anything else until we are in a more private area, unless you would like to make the situation public sooner rather than later,” Arya commented.

“Yes, of course, we should meet with a few others in my tent. I’ll organize a party of people we can trust to be discrete to go find him,” Nasuada said as she started to move, she had to find Jomindur, maybe even Trianna, and start preparing for the funeral, the fallout of their deaths.

For a second, Nasuada allowed herself to think about burying Eragon and Saphira and Hrothgar. Really think about what she would have to do as leader of the Varden.

She had already buried her father just a few short months ago, and now the dwarf who had been a monument her entire life, who had supported her after the death of her father was gone, murdered without the chance to fight back against his attacker. And Eragon, who might have been new to her world, but had chosen to support her against the plotting of the Counsel, who had accepted the hopes and dreams and desperate pleas of the people on his shoulders and had done all he could for their cause. And then Saphira, who had gone so long without hatching, who was fierce and beautiful in battle and was loyal to the core of her being.

All gone within one day. One battle.

And now she could not even mourn them as a friend, as someone who had known them all personally. She had to mourn them as the leader of the Varden, and as someone who was going to continue leading men for her cause. She would have to martyr them and have them be figure heads for people to rally to.

But she could not mourn her friends, her family. She was a figurehead too, and figureheads could not mourn, not when there was still things to get done, when there were battles still yet to win.

“Is there anyone you would like me to fetch to your tent?” Arya asked and Nasuada felt her melancholy thoughts disperse like gossamer wisps in the wind. She refocused on the elf and forced herself back into a more distanced mindset. Forced herself to become one step removed so she would not continue to unravel at the seams.

“Yes, if you could find,” Nasuada started but cut herself off as she heard Arya let out a soft gasp. In anyone else, the gasp would have been unnoticeable, but with Arya, it was like she had demanded attention.

“Saphira,” Arya’s whisper was like a prayer, as if she was afraid that saying it any louder would destroy her hope. Nasuada was confused as to why Arya had murmured the dragon’s name, and then she noticed that Arya was no longer looking at Nasuada, but at a point over her shoulder.

Nasuada turned around, and felt light explode in her chest because walking towards them was the dragon Saphira. She was still alive, even after the fight with the red dragon, she was still alive.

“They’re alive,” Arya said, joy evident in her words.

Nasuada could have whooped and jumped for joy, the relief pouring through her making her weak in the knees at the same time. She was half afraid that moving a single inch, even just letting out the breath trapped in her lungs, would shatter the image before her and she would once again be facing the prospect of burying Eragon and Saphira.

But then Arya moved beside her, a slight shift forward as if the elf wanted to run to them but was restraining herself. And they did not disappear. They did not fade away like a mirage. They did not shatter like a mirror. They did not blink out of existence like a dream.

They were still there, real and solid and alive. They were still walking towards her and Arya.

Nasuada watched as they continued to move towards them, a strange man walking with them, but they could be tumbling towards her and Nasuada would not have cared. As long as they were alive, as long as she did not have to face a world without their free dragon and rider, the world felt just that much brighter.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!!! I’m back again with another little snippet! I’ve got a few more in the works for the Interitance Cycle so look out for those, they should be out soon!!!
> 
> Let me know what you guys think! First time writing in Nasuada’s POV!!!


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